Chapter 27 Blood Fist #2
The great dragon rumbled, eyes sparkling. “They hoped you would.”
Ridan didn’t need to ask who. He looked past the dragon to see the golden waves of people—those who fought before him, who laid down their swords to stand together with Artrax.
“I thought you said you were just a simple dragon?”
Artrax grinned, his teeth as sharp as the day he died. “Your lives, your deaths, those are yours. I am a guide. A protector for the after. It is my penance.”
“Penance?”
“I have lived a long life, young Stone Blade. There are things even death cannot pay for.” He turned his attention to Ridan again. “But this isn’t about me. You have a fight to continue.”
Ridan looked down at his hands. They were covered in gold smudges, but otherwise healthy. He knew that was not the case for the Ridan behind him. That body was broken beyond repair.
“How?”
Artrax looked past Ridan, drawing his attention back to the group of people gathered around to mourn him.
“Do you know why we creatures of magic speak so highly of human love?” Ridan shook his head.
“Because humans are the only ones capable of creating love. You can create it from nothing, grow it, change it, kill or save it. It comes in so many shades and shapes. To love and be loved is the most powerful thing under the stars.”
“And you, Ridan Oldsun of the Stone Blade, are loved.”
He didn’t understand. How could he use love? It wasn’t a weapon. He couldn’t hold it. It wasn’t like the scale, whose magic surrounded him so heavily he could feel it in his hands.
“It’s…you’re not making sense.”
“What do you think made my final scale so powerful?”
“The magic! Your magic. It lingered in the scale. That’s how Sinestrus was able to break free.”
That brow ridge lifted again, a small huff passing past the dragon’s lips.
“Do you truly believe that if there was such powerful magic left in the scale that Sinestrus wouldn’t have used it all?
He couldn’t.” he cocked his head slightly, scales shifting like a ripple in a pond.
“Sinestrus couldn’t touch that power because it was borne of love. Of my love for you.”
Ridan’s hands drifted to his chest. He touched the place he’d put the scale.
“Magic corrupts. It exacts a toll. Creatures born of magic are incapable of love without a price. It is why we tried to keep the humans from it. But you sacrificed yourself—not for glory or power, but to protect your people. The scale reacted to that and heeded your commands.”
“The scale is gone. I cannot use it to return.”
“You don’t need it.” he nodded at the scene behind Ridan. “Use them. Use the strength of their love.”
“Use them? I can’t use them! I can’t take anything from them.”
“Even if it’s freely given?” Artrax asked quizzically. “What is it the Clansmen say? ‘Take when you need, give when you can’?”
Ridan gaped at the dragon. How could he possibly know that? And how had Ridan forgotten it? That was how they lived. They thrived as a clan, together. One’s flaws were balanced by another’s attributes.
Steeling himself, he clenched his fingers over his heart. The steady thump thump increased until he could feel it rattling against his ribs. Looking up into Artrax’s eyes, he suddenly knew what to do. Was it the remnants of the scale in his blood or the dragon himself?
Another question he didn’t ask.
Lifting off his chest, his hand extended toward the dark patch on Artrax’s shoulder. The missing scale was obvious, a wound that never healed. As his fingers hovered over it, he looked back at those who had come and gone before him.
“The path you’re on has many turns. It is longer than you can walk, and while you will never see the end, you are the beginning.”
Ridan touched the scab and closed his eyes.
Everything was red.
Red framed in a grey sky. Red tickling against sun kissed skin. Red clattering against teeth. Red stained on his skin and clothes. As he blinked, he was able to pick out more colors. But none were as enrapturing as that red. A red that wasn’t just a color, but a feeling. A person.
Brune was holding Ridan, his face upturned as he argued with someone.
His fangs were out and his scent so sickening it made him gag.
Brune should never smell like that. Every breath rattled in his lungs, painful like his chest was filled with daggers.
Ridan’s movements were sluggish. It took a long moment for his finger to begin to twitch, but once it did, he lifted his hand.
Fine movements eluded him, but he had enough strength to smack the back of his hand against Brune’s chest.
The man jumped, wet eyes dropping to him with disbelief.
He stared at Ridan, unable to move. With a huff, he reached for Brune’s hand, fingers clumsily wrapping around his wrist to drag to his chest. The first rise and fall of breath had Brune’s face crumpling, the second had fresh tears tracking down his cheeks, and the third had him dragging Ridan to his chest so he could scent him, nosing into his bloodied hair.
“Ridan,” he heaved, his name more like an exhale of relief than a name. A term of endearment, maybe even a curse. So many things filtered through those syllables, and Ridan heard them all.
He didn’t close his eyes. He was afraid to. Afraid that if he closed them, the next time he opened them, he’d see gold instead of red.
Pressing into Brune, he saw Jonen and Corric staring at him in shock. They weren’t alone. No one could explain what had just happened.
No one except Ridan. And he wouldn’t tell.
Glancing down, he looked at his hand. It was blemish free.
No sign of the scale, or the gold resided in the fine lines crossing his palms. The whirls of his fingertips were just skin.
Even his chest and shoulder were healed, the scars from Sinestrus’s attack stayed in his mind. Only the blood was left behind.
Shifting, Ridan looked up at Brune, trailing his bloodied fingers along his jaw. The big alpha kissed them, eyes closing in relief.
“I couldn’t smell you,” he admitted softly, his breath coasting over Ridan’s skin. It was such a delicate feeling, but it shuddered down his back like a frigid wind. “I couldn’t smell you and you were so still. I thought—I’m supposed to be your shield. I—”
“I found you,” Ridan told him, voice raw with emotion. “I found you in this life and in death I chose you.”
At his words, Brune dropped to kiss Ridan. It wasn’t particularly soft, but it was alive. Teeth pinching skin and noses smashed together, Brune kissed Ridan again and again. Kissed him until their breathing was ragged and then he kissed him some more.
Eventually Corric and Jonen found their way to him.
They hugged and scented each other. Determination brewed in Corric’s eyes as he looked over Ridan, taking in his pale face and the wash of blood clinging to every inch of skin.
Their eyes met and understanding passed between them, an unspoken conversation that had no words, but both understood anyway.
Corric stood without a word and made his way through the crowds.
Jonen and Brune helped Ridan to his feet. When he looked up, he was watched by all the people he’d gathered to fight.
Missing part of an ear, and limping badly, Areine stepped forward. Pulling her broken dagger free from its sheath, she lifted the blade into the sky.
“Chief of the Stone Blade, defender of Artrax’s Sacrifice, slayer of Sinestrus,” her smile was wicked as she raised her voice. “All hail Ridan Blood Fist!”
Stumbling forward, he flinched when he heard the cry of the Clansmen behind him.
Panting, he looked over his shoulder only to gasp in pain, nearly falling to his knees.
With his freehand he caught himself on trees as he tripped between them.
Vision fading, he could feel his strength ebbing with every step.
A meaty blood-soaked hand reached for a branch, only for it to snap under his weight. He landed hard on his shoulder. His teeth clacked together so hard one chipped. He spat the blood that filled his mouth, clutching the sword still embedded in his chest.
It hurt. Every move he made jostled the blade, cutting deeper. But he knew removing it would mean certain death. If he could just get to his magicians…
To his left, a twig snapped. Startled, he lifted his heavy head to peer through the gloom of trees.
It was hard to see with the sweat dripping into his eyes and the shadows flitting from tree to tree.
Another branch broke, and he pushed himself off the tree, trying to move faster than his numb legs could carry him.
Grunting in pain, he tried to ignore the looming presence following him. It grew bigger and bigger, bushes rustling and twigs snapping it its wake. Heart hammering against his chest, he tried to quell the rising panic that made his already clumsy feet less careful.
Whatever was chasing him was smart. It bided his time until his legs inevitably gave out.
Sprawling to the ground, he cried out in a mixture of pain and terror.
He couldn’t feel his legs, and his arms would go next.
Fingers digging into the rocky ground, he tried to pull himself along, only for the wound in his chest to scream in agony.
Spit dripping from his lips, he pushed himself up to his knees. When his eyes rose to the forest around him, he saw something moving in the darkness. Two eyes sparkling between trunks.
Those eyes moved into the light; head cocked to the side as the thing chasing him finally revealed itself.
“C-Corric?” Krait croaked, his eyes widening as he took in the unmistakable form of his youngest child.
Corric’s steps were calm and even as he walked to him.
He hadn’t even drawn the blades hanging at his side.
His arms and clothes were soaked in gore.
Hair pulled out of his eyes with a braided leather band, he looked so grown up.
Nothing like the scared little omega fussing with his skirts Krait had sent away.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, hands shaking as the omega looked down his nose at him. “I shouldn’t have listened to him. But everything I did was to protect us. To protect the—”
“I don’t want your apology,” Corric said quietly, his breath pluming in front of his lips. There was frost on his fingertips. And it wasn’t coming from the winter air.
“I do.” A voice from behind Krait slithered across him. It sounded aged and deep; a rasp of lungs so wounded they could hardly expand any longer.
Another set of familiar eyes greeted him when he looked. His breath caught in his chest the moment he recognized Schok.
“What?” he asked, lips curling into something mimicking a smile. “Are you surprised I’m alive? Or that I’m in one piece?”
Krait didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. Corric crouched in front of him. He took a long moment to look at him before reaching for the sword in his chest.
“This doesn’t belong to you.” He wrenched the sword out, twisting it so it dislodged from his bones cleanly. Krait screamed as he collapsed, blood pouring between fingers that couldn’t stem the flow.
Corric cleaned the sword off on Krait’s clothes before stepping back so Schok could take his place. Fire licked up his arms as he sneered down at him.
“Don’t worry, father. I won’t let you die.” A laugh bubbled past his lips. “Notyet,t anyway.”
The last thing he saw was Corric’s back as he walked away.